Tourniquet
by HRHThePrincesss
Summary: Detective Mark Hoffman, Susan's loving, handsome husband, is not who he seems... (This is an expanded version of another Saw fan fiction of mine, The Value of a Life. This version also has a different ending. If you liked The Value of a Life, give this one a whirl!)
1. Chapter 1

_If this romance/plot/characters sound familiar, it's because this is an expanded/improved version of my other Saw universe fan fiction, The Value of a Life. I wrote this shortly after I wrote that piece, back in 2009, but I thought I'd deleted/lost it long ago. I was looking through old thumb drives and I found it. I couldn't be more thrilled because I always thought this was a really strong piece of writing. Enjoy!_

* * *

 _"…wrapped our love up in all this foil, silver-tight like spider legs, I never wanted to ever spoil, but flies will lay their eggs…"_

* * *

Susan could still remember the first time she ever met Mark, right down to the very first moment she ever laid eyes on him.

She had been Susan Greene at the time, and a registered nurse, slowly becoming accustomed to the idea of becoming a doctor. She had been single by choice because she had been making her way through medical school at the time.

On the night that she met Mark Hoffman, she had been on the subway, on her way home after a long, 12-hour shift at the hospital where she worked. Tired and weary, she sat on one of the bench seats, drowsily reading a book. The subway didn't bother her that much. It was a perfectly acceptable form of transportation when one didn't have a car of their own. People always told her to be careful, keep your guard up, but she had never had any problems, so to her 24 year old mind, people were just over-exaggerating.

Mark had been a rookie cop back then, and was as well, on his way home after a long shift. Still uniformed, she could remember lifting her gaze when he got in the subway car with her. He was handsome, tall with broad shoulders and a broad chest. He wore his brown hair longer than Susan thought she would have liked on a man, but it looked sexy on him. What really attracted her were his full lips and bright blue eyes. When his eyes met hers, she felt like she'd been caught checking him out, and returned her gaze to her book quickly, hoping that under the florescent lights of the subway that he couldn't see the blush seep into her cheeks.

The truth was, she really didn't like riding the subway alone, especially this late at night, but she was too independent to ask a friend to meet her. Having this spry, young cop on the same car not ten feet away made her feel a lot safer. They had vaguely acknowledged each other with a quick instant of eye contact, but otherwise didn't say anything to each other.

Mark could remember how beautiful and innocent she had looked; long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, glasses, violet eyes, tall but lean frame. When their gazes met, both of them instantly looked away, not wanting to have been caught by the other.

He wanted to sit closer to her, because she looked so lonely and vulnerable sitting by herself. But he didn't want to make her even more self-conscious than she already seemed. So he sat where he had intended in the first place, all the while keeping an eye on the man closer to her, the man who looked like the kind of man who one might call a shady character. And he kept looking over at her, like she was the prey and he, the predator. She looked uncomfortable once she noticed the shady character was looking at her. She shifted, trying to look engrossed in the book in her lap, and failing because he was making her so uneasy. Mark decided then to get up and go sit next to her, if for no better reason than to make her feel better. He didn't get very far. The shady character pulled a gun out of his dingy jacket.

Susan yelped as the man seized her arm and pulled her forcefully against his side. The cop got up, possibly to make her feel better, and now had to find a way to save her before this situation got any worse. She suddenly realized how young he looked, young as she even. It worried her.

"Easy, just let her go," the cop said. She would recall later the deep, low timbre of his voice and the total lack of nervousness. He sounded sure, calm even. But then again, he wasn't the one with the gun against his chest, held there by some odd and unbalanced stranger.

The man said nothing, and Mark drew his weapon.

"Put that away!" the man yelled at him.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. You're threatening the life of an innocent citizen for reasons I am not aware of." He said, still calm. The shady character unlocked the safety.

"I'll blow a hole in her so big you won't be able to save her if you don't put your weapon away and sit the fuck down!" he threatened. Mark's eyes faltered and met hers for a moment, just a moment, but that was all it took. He unlocked the safety on his weapon. Susan, frightened, began to realize the man holding her was weak, shivering even, afraid. She took advantage of this fact and jammed her foot down on the top of the man's foot, causing him to let go and cry out, and thankfully, not unload the gun into her chest. He did however, fire it at the cop. And the cop shot back, hitting the man in the chest and killing him instantly. But then, the young cop hit the floor of the subway car as well. Susan crawled over to him and saw that he had been hit in the chest. His breathing was labored, dragging and whistling through his chest. Susan saw the bleeding hole in the right side of his chest. It's a lung, she knew instantly by the way he was breathing and the shocked look in his face. She knew that if she didn't plug the hole that he would die long before anyone got there to help them. She remembered something that she had learned in her emergency medic training classes to do if there are no tools and no one around. She curled her index and middle finger of her right hand together, making a miniature, two-fingered fist. She looked at the hole, then pressed her bound fingers into it, closing the hole crudely. He managed a good breath without the hissing.

"Wha-what are you…?" he murmured, looking down at her fingers buried in the bullet wound in his chest.

"Shhh, don't try to talk. It's alright. You're going to be ok, just keep taking short breaths and try to relax," she said, keeping her other hand over his heart. It was a desperate, primitive way of monitoring his most obvious vital signs. He did as she told him, raising his hand and gently, carefully feeling the hand with the fingers in his chest, and knew he would never forget how it felt for this young woman, this angel, to hold the hole in his chest closed and keep him alive. He would remember forever how beautiful she looked in that moment of holding his chest together, keeping him alive, how angelic and lovely. He focused on her eyes and their odd coloring. They were a stunning violet shade with hints of blue in them. He'd never seen eyes like hers before. The image gripped him and refused to let go, and would continue to do so for years to come.


	2. Chapter 2

A couple of days later, as Susan was making her normal rounds in the hospital, another nurse stopped her. "Susan?" she called to her just as she was about to go around the corner.

"Yes?" she asked, stopping, but not lifting her head from her clipboard.

"Officer Hoffman is asking to see you, when you get the chance," the young nurse said. Susan lifted her gaze.

"Hoffman? I don't-"

"The cop, the young cop you brought in here two nights ago? He's asking to see you, when you get a chance," she said.

"Why?" Susan asked, wondering what the young cop would want, even a little afraid, like he would blame her or be angry for the scar on his chest that she felt she had helped put there.

"He said that he just wanted to speak to the woman who saved his life, that he didn't even know her name," she answered, smiling suspiciously. "He's pretty handsome, Susan, I think you should go-"

"Oh, alright, I'll go and see him when I make my way to the recovery wing," she said, flustered and blushing. She walked away, her heart rate slowly rising.

About forty-five minutes later, she did make her way to the recovery wing, and she found the young Officer Hoffman. She walked in and he was lying in his hospital bed.

"You wanted to see me, Officer Hoffman," she said, entering the room cautiously.

"Hello, Ms. Greene," he said. She felt a small blush threaten to climb her cheeks and embarrass her, but she couldn't help it. She had always been prone to blushing at the worst times, managing to embarrass herself for the simple fact that she was embarrassed.

"Did you need something? The other nurse said you wanted to-" she asked, then was cut off.

"Yes, to thank you," he said.

"I was only doing my job, Officer, you don't need to thank me," she replied back, purely a reflex.

"As was I, but we were both, off-duty so to speak and I just wanted to thank you for holding me together," he said.

"Well, I guess, um, you're welcome," she said. He smiled, and she turned to leave before he could see her face turn a lively shade of pink.

"Wait," he went to sit up as he said it, and found that his chest was still too sore to move in such a way. Susan turned and was at his side at once.

"Please, Officer Hoffman, you need to stay lying down for now and rest," she said, helping back into his bed and helped him lie down.

"Please stop calling me that, my name is Mark," he said.

"Ah, well, I'm Susan," she replied, trying to appease him so that he would lie down and rest like a good patient.

"Susan," he said her name in the deep, soft voice that she hadn't even realized that she had come to like before he uttered her name. Something in the pit of her abdomen quivered, making her uneasy, certain now that she was blushing. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he continued. She smiled.

"You too, Mark, but I really must be-"

"Have dinner with me?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" she asked, caught even more off guard than before.

"Have dinner with me, Susan Greene," he said, smiling widely. She was taken aback by his boldness in asking his question.

"Do you do this a lot, go around being a hero just so you can pick up women?" she asked, half laughing at the way he'd blurted out his proposal for dinner.

"I don't believe I got to be the hero this time," he corrected her. "You took pretty good care of yourself. And me."

"I don't think so," she said, straightening his sheets and adjusting his pain medication drip.

"I just wanna thank you," he said.

"You just did, now rest, please," she said, forcing her face and tone to go serious as she said this. But to him, it sounded more like give it a rest. He smiled up at her as she adjusted his morphine drip and as he slowly drifted away, he let her name float through his thoughts like a feather in the warm breeze of the spring. He had a feeling he would be seeing her again soon.

And as Susan left the young cop to sleep on his morphine high, she smiled to herself for having been hit on by the young cop whose chest she had literally held closed so that he wouldn't die not three days ago. She too, got the feeling that this would not be the last she saw or heard from Mark Hoffman.

* * *

Three weeks had passed and three lovely bouquets delivered to her at her apartment, each on the morning of the Tuesday in the mentioned week, the day she had saved his life. The first had been white roses, the second pink roses, the third red roses. She knew that she would not be able to resist him much longer. For one thing, he was very, terribly charming and handsome, and she had not dated anyone since college. He had gorgeous clear blue eyes, longish brown hair that he kept swept back from his face and full, pouty lips. He was tall and broad, built the way she had always thought a man should be built. Medical school was as time-consuming and life-overwhelming as it was expensive, and she had been doing well because of the fact that she had no life outside of her studies. But she knew that their hadn't been anyone worth putting the books down for either, at least until now.

Each bouquet had been asking her to call and allow him to take her to dinner, in little sexy, subtle ways. The first had said, let me thank you properly. The second had said, Susan, dear, you need to take a break and let a man show you a good time. The third one read, what have you got to lose?, and that was the one that had won her over, mostly because it was one of her favorite lyrics, a la Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. She finally got the courage and spontaneity to call him. Well, not exactly call, just pick up when he called her.

"Hello?" she had answered, a bit annoyed because she had been, of all things, studying.

"Susan?" he asked and she knew immediately that it was him.

"Yes?"

"It's Mark, uh, Mark Hoffman," he said. She was surprised, he actually sounded a bit nervous.

"Yes," she said.

"I was just wondering if you got the flowers," he asked.

"I did, and thank you, they are beautiful," she answered.

"Well, I guess, that's all-"

"Now you're going to chicken out?" she half-laughed. "You called me, Officer Hoffman, and sent me flowers, and it took an extra few drips of morphine for you to stop asking me out, trying to convince me it was the right thing to do. And now, you actually sound like you might be nervous." He was silent for a moment, unsure of where to go with what was being said. "Maybe I should just go ahead and accept and save you the embarrassment of the actual asking me." He laughed.

"I guess the drugs made me braver and apparently more outspoken than I thought," he admitted.

"Apparently," she said.

And with that, Susan Greene and Mark Hoffman began their courtship.


	3. Chapter 3

One night after work, Mark and a few of his friends went downtown to have a nice, relaxing night on the town. On a whim, his buddies dragged him into a strip club.

"I really shouldn't," Mark had said.

"Oh come on, Hoffman, have a little fun," one of them said.

"I just don't want to disappoint this girl-"

"So then don't tell her dumb ass!" they said as they continued to pull him in. They sat down near the bar, close to the dancing women and the booze. Mark gave in and decided to have a good time with his friends. He and Susan weren't quite getting serious yet, so having a little drunken fun with his buddies at this little strip-joint shouldn't be bad for anything.

The group was beginning to get particularly relaxed and tipsy when this tall, lean, dark-haired woman came out. Mark couldn't explain why she caught his eye; he couldn't even really see her face. But she didn't look like she quite belonged with the other girls he'd seen dancing that night. She walked slowly towards the pole directly in front of them.

"Look at her," one of the guys said. She was wearing black stiletto boots that came up over her knees, a black thong, and a red and black lacy, decorative corset that pushed her breasts up to their limit. She also wore a pair of black satin elbow gloves. Her hair was down and long, nearly down to her waist. But it wasn't what she was wearing that put her out of place. It was her, she looked so, good. Most of the women in places like these didn't look so good to begin with; they were too thin, too pale, too old. But this woman looked very healthy, unusually beautiful. Mark felt himself get hard when her hand caught the pole and she stood in one place for a moment, rolling her lovely hips.

"Damn," Mark said almost under his breath.

"I'd say we got settled in at just the right time," another of his friends said. But he couldn't take his eyes off of her. A slow, sexy version of 'Susie Q' came over the stereo system, and she began to sway with it, twirling around the pole slowly. But because of the dim lighting and her long hair, he still couldn't see her face. Mark supposed it didn't matter.

She began to go into one of the sexiest dances Mark'd ever seen come from a stripper. She twirled around the pole, her long legs so graceful and her body so agile. He wondered vaguely in the back of his mind what Susan was doing right then. He took a drink of the cold beer and felt his face flush, both with the buzz the alcohol was giving him, and with the rush of arousal this beautiful woman was giving him.

She must've begun noticing the attention she was getting from the small group of off-duty cops, because on the instrumental section of the song, she crawled on her hands and knees over to them, presumably to flirt and see what kind of tips she could get out of them. She somehow ended up right in front of Mark when she flipped her long, dark, soft hair up, and came face to face with him. It was then that he realized why this woman was so sexy, why she appealed so much to him, why he had such a hard-on for her. Because all he had to do was see those distinct violet eyes to know exactly who she was.

She froze, stunned to come in contact with him like this. But after the initial shock, she tried to play it off, tried to pretend that she wasn't Susan and he wasn't Mark.

* * *

The next day at work, Susan got a visit from Mark. This time, at the hospital. She was just getting ready to leave when one of the receptionists came into the back room where all the nurses and doctors kept their stuff in lockers.

"Ms. Greene, an Officer Hoffman is here to see you," the young woman said. Her heart skipped a beat, making her chest feel achy and cold.

"I'm getting ready to leave-"

"That's alright, it'll only take a minute," Mark suddenly appeared from behind the receptionist. Susan felt cornered. She returned to changing her shoes as the receptionist left her and Mark alone. "Susan-"

"What do you want Mark?" she asked, feeling embarrassment and shame close in on her. She knew what he wanted to talk to her about. She had been hoping that he was enough of a gentleman to just leave her alone if he didn't want to date her in light of having found out about her second job. She stood up, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Just to talk," he said. She could barely make herself make eye contact with him. To him, she looked so different now, like his Susan, the young woman he'd met on the subway. My Susan, he thought, how strange does that sound?

"I don't want to talk about what I know you're thinking." She said. "If you don't want to date me anymore, that's fine. I tried to save us all this trouble, you know."

"I don't care if you strip or whatev-"she came forward suddenly and covered his mouth with her palm.

"Shut up!" she whispered angrily. "I could lose my job here if they ever found out about that. And my scholarship for medical school." She lifted her palm, and he looked down at her suddenly in understanding. She wasn't doing it because she wanted to. She had to.

"I'm sorry, Susan. I just wanted to talk, I guess it was a bad idea to come here," he said, looking away as if embarrassed. Not appalled or even slightly uneasy about what he had witnessed her doing the night before. Could he really still like me after that?, she asked herself. She took a deep breath.

"Did you drive here?" she asked just as he was turning to leave.

"Yes," he answered, turning back to her. "Want a ride home?" She nodded, never taking her arms from around herself.

Mark parked out in front of her apartment building. He looked around. It wasn't a bad-looking building and it wasn't in a very worrisome part of town either. He looked over and saw her delicate, little hands wringing in her lap restlessly.

"I'm not doing it because I like it, Mark," she said, her eyes remaining downward as she spoke.

"I kinda figured that out." He answered. "I'm sorry Susan, I didn't mean to embarrass you." He reached over and put his hand on hers. They were so cold. "My god, Susan, are you always cold?" he asked, taking her hands into both of his, bringing them up to his mouth. He enveloped them in his hands and blew his warm breath into them. She looked up at him.

"Pretty much," she said. He made eye contact with her and saw the little smile on her face, the corners of her pretty little mouth upturned, her eyes a warmer violet now, more lavender than blue.

"I guess I kinda figured you didn't want to be there, not really," he said. She sighed and took her hands away from his.

"You wanna come inside?" she asked. He smiled.

"Sure," he answered.

Once up in her apartment, Mark sat down on her loveseat and looked around while she made some coffee. Her apartment was pretty plain, neat, but he figured she didn't have the time or money to dress it up too much. But he did see the little touches of her personality strewn about. There was one picture in particular that caught his eye. It was Susan and a double of her. He picked up the picture in its wooden frame. Dear god, there are two of her, he thought. She came into the room carrying two mugs and set them down.

"I didn't know you're a twin," he said. She smiled.

"Yep," she said, sitting down beside him. "That's me and Sydney, my sister."

"Susan and Sydney," he said. "I couldn't tell you apart in that picture." He said, setting it back on the table where it belonged.

"In person I bet you could," she said, sipping the steaming coffee. He finished a drink of his.

"Why's that?" he asked.

"I'm not the one talking," she said. He smiled.

"So she's the evil twin," he said, winking at her. She smiled. Something in her lower torso quivered when he did that. The sensation made her shift.

"Something like that I guess," she said, looking down. She might've been able to hide the sparkle in her eyes, but not the pink that always found its way into her cheeks when he did something like wink or smile or flirt with her in some way. He liked watching her and finding those little signs in her persona, little hints as to what she may be thinking or feeling.

"I really like you, Susan. It's going to take a bit more to make me not want to date you anymore." When she lifted her head back up, a strong flush of pink had colored her cheeks.

"I really like you too, Mark," she said. He leaned in and kissed her. It was the first kiss they'd ever had. Mark cupped her cheeks in his warm hands and let his lips brush over hers, just a singular stroke of his full lips over hers. She felt her knees and insides go weak. He pulled back and looked at her.

"You're so beautiful, Susan," he said. His Pacific-blue eyes drift over her, not leering, but taking her in. The length and texture of her dark brown hair as it lay around her face and across her shoulders, the deep flush in her fair, lightly freckled cheeks, the way her lips curled and pouted, the way her big, stunning violet eyes put the signature finishing touch on her face. She was truly beautiful.

"Stop," she said, turning away from him. He smiled

"What?" he asked.

"Looking me over like that," she said. She got up and went to stand by the window. "It makes me feel so self-conscious." He got up and came up behind her. He put his hands on the sides of her waist.

"You shouldn't feel self-conscious. You should be aware of how lovely and beautiful you really are, Susan. Because you are," he said, low in her ear, just above a whisper. It sent hot and cold chills coursing through out her body. He pushed her long hair over to one shoulder and placed small, tender kisses up the side of her neck. "You're eyes are so stunning, you truly are beautiful."

"And you thought this before you saw me at the strip club?" she asked, trying not to let his charm and allure easily melt her like it would another woman. He stopped, and she was suddenly very aware of the heat coming off of his chest and how close he must be standing to her. When his hands dropped from her sides, she turned around and saw the look of awe and irritation in his face.

"Don't say things like that, Susan, of course I thought you were beautiful before then." He said, sounding exactly how he looked. She suddenly felt cold, unsure, like she'd just said something so stupid and careless. She came forward and put her hands on his chest, leaning in and kissing his mouth.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. His arms came up around her. She never realized how good it felt for someone to hold her until she'd had him.

"I'd better go," he said, kissing her forehead. She nodded.

"It's late," she admitted.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said, kissing her cheek once more before leaving.


	4. Chapter 4

Their intense sexual relationship did not begin until later, after a few dates. But she knew it was coming, and that when it did, it would be powerful. After their first few dates, he had kissed her, each time becoming more passionate and wanton. But it wasn't just the way he kissed her, it was the way it made her feel, the small tremor of electricity that ran through her core, causing her nipples to tighten and her clit to pulse lightly and make her wet. He would then lean into her, his mouth touching her ear, and whisper, "Good night, Susan." The low, sexy drag of his voice always made her wet, even if he was only saying good night.

She still remembered Mark coming over to her then small apartment and cooking for her. Though well on her way to becoming a good doctor, she was not much of a cook. Being part Italian, he was. But it wasn't the dinner she remembered. It was the way he had picked her up as she was finishing up the dishes, seating her on the counter next to the sink. He kissed her, running the tip his tongue lightly over her lips, his hands stroking her bare knees. She had been wearing a skirt, and he had slid it up her slim thighs, revealing the lacy, decorative tops of her black stockings. He had smiled, running his fingers over the lace, then her soft skin. When he raised his gaze to hers, his smile had gone all but from his eyes. He leaned in to kiss her, and was welcomed by her own warm, eager lips. He kissed her, an aching, wondering kiss. The kiss that begged the question that had been looming over her since they had been on a few dates, was she ready?

It wasn't like she never had sex, but she hadn't had it much. Aside from her lover in college, she had not had another sexual partner. She and Mark had not known each other very long, but already there was chemistry between them, something she had not even felt with that sweetheart, years ago. It was a feeling that she had wanted to give into from the very first, but wanted to make sure that it was real.

When his mouth moved to her neck, nibbling at her earlobe, he whispered, "Do you want me to make love to you, Susan?" he asked, his lips brushing her earlobe, making a shiver run through her. "Tell me to stop and I will, darling." She bit her lips, then whispered her reply.

"I want you to make love to me," and wrapped her arms around his neck loosely. And just like that, he knew, knew she was his. He remembered wanting her, wanting to do so many things to her, with her. He was already falling in love with her. He pulled her tight-fitting sweater up over her head and off her, then unbuttoned the blouse beneath it, revealing a dark, sexy bra. He didn't even finish taking off the shirt before he had to kneel and press his mouth against her breasts, slipping his tongue between them. He pulled one of the flimsy lace cups of her pretty bra over, exposing one of her nipples. He touched it gently with his thumb, then closed his mouth around the soft pink tip. Her cheeks flushed deeply pink with her own arousal. She reached for him, unbuttoning his shirt then pushing up his t-shirt, wanting to feel his bare skin against hers, needing it. She kissed his chest, feeling the heat and smelling his clean, male scent. She felt his hands slide up the insides of her thighs, one of them coming to cup her through her panties, and gasped. "Mark," she moaned as his fingers pressed against her sensitive opening firmly. He felt how wet she was already, and it excited him even more. His face flushed then as well, his erection growing painfully.

"Susan, you're so," he faltered, licking his lips, "So wet." She felt her cheeks grow even hotter when he said this. She bit her lip, trying to hold it together, even as she trembled all over with her need. "Look at how you blush," he said. She smiled, embarrassed. "I love when you turn pink like that. It's so sexy," he said. With his free hand, he brought one of her hands down over the front of his pants, letting her feel how hard and aroused he was for her. She gasped; he felt big. Thick too. She brought her gaze up to his again, her eyes glassy, pupils dilated. "See what you do to me, Susan?" he said. He was certain he looked just as intoxicated and aroused in her eyes as she did to him.

"You're so hard," she murmured. She stroked him, internally in awe of how big he was. She could not remember her lone past lover having been this well-endowed. She was suddenly very aware of how long it had been since she'd had sex, and just as aware that her body craved the coupling, how much she needed the release.

Mark knelt and removed her panties, leaving the rest of her clothing as it was. He reached between her thighs, and this time, his fingers came into direct, naked contact with her wet, aroused sex. His fingers moved between her lips, stroking, exploring.

"Mmm, Mark, oh," she moaned, and he pushed his fingers inside.

"I've wanted you, Susan, I ache with it," he whispered, pushing his fingers in and out of her slowly, watching her react to it, rocking with his hand and flushing even more deeply pink. She took the cue and unbuckled and unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down along with his briefs. He looked even larger than he felt through his pants and it made her a little nervous. The doctor side of her knew that it was going to be a snug fit, and the woman side of her wanted him inside her so much that she almost didn't care.

"Please, Mark," she moaned softly, taking him into her hand, amazed at how hot and hard he truly felt.

"Please what, Susan? Tell me what you want," he said. She stroked him gently but firmly, felt him grown even a little bigger with the stimulation.

"I want you inside me," she whispered. He looked at her once more with those stunning blue eyes and withdrew his fingers. He took his cock into his hand and placed himself carefully against the opening of her wet cunt, and began pushing into her, slowly. She felt herself stretch around him, accepting him. It didn't really hurt, she noted in her mind, but she was definitely tight from lack of sexual activity.

"Oh my god, Mark. You're so big," she gasped. Normally, she wouldn't have just rattled off such an ego-inflating comment, but it was nothing but the truth. He had to be a full nine inches hard, which was something she'd never experienced before. He smiled, pushing all the way in. She shuddered, feeling so utterly full that there was no way to get away from the pleasure, to get away from him. "Christ," she swore under her breath.

"Susan, oh Susan," he groaned, his forehead falling against her shoulder as he took hold of her hips and began pushing even deeper. She was tight, but it didn't bother him in the slightest. "Am I hurting you? You feel so tight, love," he was trembling as he said this, obviously exerting a lot of control not to fuck her senseless at that very moment.

"N-no, it's just, been awhile, for me," she said. And she was only telling the truth. While it was tight, it didn't hurt. And while she knew she would be sore later, she wanted him too much for her to feel any pain. "Please, Mark, make love to me, now," she pulled him closer, and he felt her clench herself around him.

He picked her up, managing to stay inside of her, and moved so that she was pinned between him and the wall between her kitchen and living area. She hooked her hands behind his neck, feeling his hair, soft and fine underneath her fingers. He pushed up, and she cried out involuntarily. He pressed his mouth over hers, a closed mouthed kiss that surprised her. "Shhh, you do have neighbors darling," he whispered against her lips, smiling as he said it. She smiled, blushing harder.

"I-I'm trying," she whispered back, embarrassed a bit. He pulled back, then pushed forward again, and she nearly cried out again. He caught her this time, placing his hand over her mouth. She opened her eyes from their previously closed state, looking into his blue eyes. It exhilarated her to be this way, fucking a man who seemed to understand, somehow, that what she wanted was to be controlled, to be possessed. But it frightened her to the core that he could see this already. Could he really, or was it just a lucky guess?, she wondered. She loved the feeling of his and her displaced clothes, his force as he picked up speed and vigor, the fact that she was pinned between the wall and him, his hand over her mouth, hushing her moans of ecstasy, almost as if she was being attacked by him. She couldn't describe the feeling, but she knew it was what she wanted. She let out her cries and moans against the warm palm of his hand.

He let go and began to shove himself in and out, roughly, almost forcefully. The movement caused muffled thuds against the wall behind her. She looked down at him and he smiled. There were very acute lines of color in the hollows of his cheeks, a result of their love-making. She took one of her hands and touched his cheek, feeling the heat that had built there. She smiled back, holding in her moans the best that she could, though he could still hear the hot mewing and groaning in her throat. He bent forward, still fucking, and captured the lovely pink tip of one of her bouncing breasts in his mouth and suckled hard. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, leaving tiny pink trails when he carefully bit down. He then switched to the other breast and repeated the same pattern. She reached her orgasm just as he did this, letting out a scream, muffled by his mouth. He gave a few small, very forceful thrusts, intensifying and prolonging her pleasure before giving into his own climax. She thought she might faint for how good sex was with him.

When he felt the pulsing inside her begin to subside, he withdrew from inside of her. She leaned against the wall behind her, her legs shaky. He pulled his pants back up and refastened them, then picked her up against his chest and carried her to her bedroom. He lay there with her for hours, talking some, but mostly just holding her. It was a genuine closeness, because after the intense wall-fuck, he didn't try to have sex with her again. She had wanted to ask him how he knew her inside already, what she wanted, but decided not to. Why question it?, she rationalized to herself. It would be this eerie perception and unspoken understanding that their later marriage would be based upon, an ability of which they would both be capable.


	5. Chapter 5

Mark realized that their relationship was becoming serious when she invited him to a very big family occasion, the wedding of her twin sister.

"Sydney's getting married and I don't think I could bear this one alone," she said. "I'm getting quite tired of being labeled the lonely sister." He smiled a little.

"Of course I'll go," he said. She came forward and kissed him.

"Thank you," she said gratefully.

"So this means, theoretically, I get to see what you'll look like in a wedding dress," he said, squeezing her in his arms.

"I guess it does," she said. "Now we get to put that theory of yours to the test. I wanna see if you really can tell us apart."

"I will, I swear it," he said looking down at her. "I know you, Susie Q." She shoved at his chest playfully.

"I hate that, you know I hate that," she groaned.

"But you're so adorable when you're irritated," he said. She rolled her eyes.

"It's a good thing you're such a doll," she said. "I don't know how I would tolerate you if you weren't." She said, darting out of his grasp. He stalked after her and picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder with ease. She loved that he could do that, just pick her up and carry her around like it was nothing.

"I'll remind you of why you tolerate me, Ms. Greene," he said, taking her to her bedroom and dropping her on the bed. And remind her, he did.

* * *

They both got time off of work to go upstate to Rochester for Sydney's wedding. It was a lovely, warm summer and the warmth didn't change much as they went a bit further north. The air was comfortably warm.

Mark was glad to be at Susan's side for this occasion, because it made him feel as though he was really getting substantially closer to her. He already knew that he was in love with her, but telling a woman as independent and intelligent as Susan could be tricky. He didn't want to push her away by telling her he loved her too soon, too brashly. He wanted to find the right way, the right moment.

Upon arriving, Mark observed the house.

"Nice place," he said. The house was an old brick one with white trim. It was two stories and even from the outside, looked quite large. There were trees all around and the sunlight made it look so picturesque.

"This is where I grew up," she said. He looked over, but she was already climbing out of the SUV. When he got out, he saw a small group of people moving towards them from the house. As they got closer, Mark realized he was looking at her mother, father, and Sydney.

"Susan," her mother came first. "Welcome home, dear." She said.

"Hi mom," she said. They embraced, the older woman squeezing her daughter tightly. Once they were done, the woman turned to him.

"And who is this?" she asked. Susan smiled.

"Mom, this is Mark," she turned to Mark then. "Mark, this is my mother, Anne." Mark reached his hand out.

"Pleasure to meet you, Anne," he said. Mark felt like he was seeing into the future, because her mother was just an older version of Susan herself, striking violet eyes and all.

"Likewise," she said. "Susan didn't tell us she was bringing a male friend." Anne said, raising her eyebrows curiously.

"She told me," Sydney spoke up. And Mark came face to face with Susan's twin. "Hi, I'm Sydney." Mark looked at her and knew instantly how he would tell them apart.

"Mark," he said, shaking her hand. She then turned to her sister.

"It's about time, Susan." Mark looked at Susan then and thought he saw something in her eyes. She smiled, but something in her eyes didn't quite match her smile. He saw some wall, some protective barrier erect and reinforce itself instantly within her.

"Shut up, Syd," she said, nudging her sister playfully, letting the comment roll off her back.

"I'm just saying," she said. Susan looked like herself but subtly, he saw her retreating as she crossed her arms over her chest.

And then, the older gentleman stepped forward. Her father.

"Charlie, pleasure to meet you Mark," he said, shaking his hand. Mark could feel a warm reassurance with the man.

"Pleasure to meet you too, sir," he said. In him, Mark could see little things he saw in Susan. Her quiet, her internal self arguing with the external self, they were traits very evident in this man.

Together, they all went in the house. Mark looked around and realized that they were quite well off. It made him think of his own family. His mother was dead, his father and brothers still living in New York City where he'd grown up. It was then that he supposed that he would have to soon explain his family to Susan and why he rarely chose to see them.

In conversation, Mark could see what Susan meant by being the quiet one. She truly was. Sydney and her mother were the talkers in the family apparently. Even her father spoke up more than she did. When he saw her drifting, he reached over and held her hand. She turned to him and he smiled, squeezed her hand gently. She smiled back, but her eyes fell from his too soon for him to read her mood.

"So, Mark, where are you from?" Sydney asked.

"New York City, actually," he said, his hand still holding Susan's. Sydney definitely noticed, her violet eyes drawing nearer to blue.

"And what is it you do?" Anne asked.

"I'm a police officer," he answered. Both women smiled genuinely.

"I didn't know we were in the presence of one of New York's finest," Charlie said then. Mark smiled.

"How is college treating you, Susan?" her mother asked then. Susan rolled her eyes.

"I graduated from college two years ago, mom, its medical school now," she said. "But, good. I'm doing well."

"That's Susan, always the brain," Sydney said, giggling. But Mark had a feeling that Susan didn't find it so funny. Mark looked at Sydney intently for a moment. "What is it Mark?"

"It's remarkable how much you both look alike," he said. He then turned back to Susan. "But I could still tell who's who." Sydney looked curious.

"Oh dear, I'm their mother and I still have trouble when they're together," Anne said. Mark smiled. But Sydney looked suspicious, as if she knew what he was saying. Susan smiled.

After a while, Susan and Mark decided to go back to their hotel and rest. Susan looked relieved to be alone with him again.

"What'd you think?" she asked as they pulled out onto the road.

"They're all nice," he said smiling. "You got your physical looks from your mother and your personality from your father mostly."

"What about Sydney?" she asked, her voice sounding curious.

"Well, she's beautiful, obviously," he smiled. "But she has a mouthy side." He admitted.

"I told you," she said. "It's always been that way."

"I would still be able to tell you apart," he said as they pulled up to a stop light.

She looked over at him, meeting his startling blue gaze. "How?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. He reached over and touched just under her right eye.

"The slight beauty mark here," he said. "You're also slightly taller, shaped a little different." He said, eyeing her body suggestively. She smiled, then giggled. He saw the wall in her eyes recede, and was glad that it did.

"Different good or different bad?" she asked, raising one eyebrow. He sighed, looking her over once again, before driving the vehicle forward as the light turned green.

"What do you think, Susan?" he asked. She leaned over the narrow console and softly kissed the place where his jaw and earlobe touched, reaching over into his lap. She felt the thick, pulsing flesh beneath the denim of his jeans.

"I guess I'd say good," she said, giving him a gentle, warm squeeze before letting go and settling back into her seat. She smiled a little, looking out her window. He smiled. When she looked back, she saw the flush in his cheeks, the faint red darts of color just under his cheekbones. She loved that he did that, it made him look even sexier than he already did.

In the beginning, she knew that it had been his warm, chiseled face that had drawn her to him. The deep blue of his eyes, the fullness in his lips, the strong jaw and the way he wore his hair just a little longer than most men. But now, it was other things, like how his upper body was so broad and solid with muscle. He didn't look like a body builder, but he was very intimidating when he stood next to a more slightly-framed person. She just liked the feeling of him being the one in control. She also loved how her shoulders fit within his when he held her. She loved his big hands, the way they made her gravitate towards him when he touched her with them. She loved his voice, the deep, low drag that he spoke in, the way it always kind of sounded like a rasp. When he was inside her, making love to her from behind, he would tell her things and just the way his voice sounded saying dirty things to her would send her over the edge every time.

Their relationship was deeply sexual. Sexual chemistry was something that would follow them throughout their relationship, even as it grew and evolved. Their connection was so deeply rooted that it only made sense that sex was and always would be something they would instantly click with.


	6. Chapter 6

In the next few days, Mark followed Susan through her familial duties preparing for her sister's wedding. The more he was around the two of them, the more differences he noticed. For one thing, Sydney was constantly trying to be level with Susan. In Mark's eyes, he saw a twin desperately trying to become equal with her much smarter sister. Susan was the medical student, the future doctor. Sydney was marrying a doctor. Mark had also noticed Sydney's half-hearted attempts at flirting with himself. Mark just blatantly ignored them, and Susan saw it every time. He knew this because she was very smile-prone, worse than blushing.

But on the day they went to try on their dresses, Mark came along, as well as one of Sydney and Susan's childhood friends, Carrie. Susan came out of the dressing room first. She was wearing a strapless white dress that gathered around her breasts and hung freely around her waist and down to just at her knees. Mark looked at her, smiling tenderly.

"That, um, you look good," he said. The truth was, he'd never seen her very dressed up before now. She looked good in the dress, with the way it complemented her body and showed off her legs.

"You think?" she asked, twirling. He nodded, winking at her. Carrie giggled.

"You do look good Susan," she said.

"Okay, I'm coming out, so everyone look breathless and in awe," she called. Susan stepped back as Sydney stepped out of the dressing room. And Mark came face to face with what Susan would look like in a wedding dress. It wasn't her, of course, but it was enough to make him sure that he wanted to see the real thing, and not far in the future. Any other time, this may have sent a man running, because this was face to face confrontation with what commitment looked like. But Mark was surprised that all he felt was warmth. He imagined it was Susan, his Susan, in the beautiful white dress.

"Sydney Lin, that looks beautiful," Carrie cried.

"You think?" she asked, turning around.

"Of course, my goodness," she cooed.

"What's it feel like, Susan? This is how it would look if you were getting married," she said with a teasing hint in her tone. Susan smiled, but Mark saw the wall in her eyes go back up.

"I think it looks good," he said. He looked at Susan and winked. She turned pink in an instant. Sydney disappeared into the dressing room and Carrie followed to help her get back out of the dress. But Mark grabbed Susan before she could disappear too.

"What?" she asked. He looked at her, and this time, he was definitely leering.

"Darling, maybe I should follow you in there, help you out of your dress," he whispered. She blushed even more deeply pink.

"Shh," she said. He slid his hand up the back of her dress and grabbed her ass.

"Should I, Susan?" he asked. She shook her head, pushing at his chest. Her attempt to stop him was half-hearted, and he leaned in to kiss her, his fingers sliding between her legs and just lightly stroking her through her panties. She flushed even deeper with embarrassment at her own arousal, and he released her.

"You are impossible," she whispered. He winked, smiling that knee-weakening smile.

Susan quickly redressed so he couldn't sneak in and try to ravish her again – to put a little color in her cheeks as he would say – before she was dressed.

Sydney and Carrie were already discussing lunch when Susan emerged, redressed.

"How about lunch Susan, on the bride to be, of course," Sydney said.

"Uh, well," she turned to Mark. He smiled.

"I think I'll go back to the hotel and rest up. Watching 3 beautiful women try on dresses all morning wore me out," he said. Mr. Charming, Susan thought to herself.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm sure. Go have fun, have girl time," he said. He winked, then kissed her quickly before going.

"I'll bring her back later," Sydney said.

"Okay," Mark said, throwing them a quick, charming smile before leaving.

* * *

At lunch, Carrie and Sydney began grilling Susan.

"So, where'd you meet Prince Charming?" Sydney asked.

"It's kind of funny actually, we met on the subway," Susan said. "It was really late and I had just got off work and so had he. I was sitting there by myself reading when this guy grabs me. Mark still had his uniform and gun on and-"

"Oh, he's a cop?!" Carrie cooed suggestively.

"Yeah, and, well, he ended up shooting the guy because they guy wouldn't stop pointing a gun at me. But the other guy shot him too. I had to hold the wound closed so he could keep, you know, breathing, because it punctured his lung," Susan finished.

"Wow, that is so romantic," Carrie sighed. Susan laughed.

"I don't know if that's what I would call it, but it was definitely an interesting way to meet someone," Susan said.

"He sure is handsome, Susan, charming too," Sydney said. "I'm surprised you have time for anyone with medical school and working at the hospital."

"Yeah, I know, but he seems to really understand," she said. She could tell Sydney was trying to dig at her like she always did when her going to medical school came up in conversation. She and Sydney had begun college at the same time and Sydney had flunked out after only two semesters. Susan never let her grades fall below the best they could be.

Sydney rolled her eyes. "I just don't know how you do it all, Susan," she said, taking a bite of her lunch. Susan suddenly remembered why she didn't come home much. She suddenly ached for Mark's hand reaching over for hers when he sensed her tension or anxiety about something. Susan was fiercely independent, but she did like the reassurance that she was indeed doing the right thing in her life, something which Mark didn't seem to mind giving her.

"So, are you all set for the wedding?" Carrie asked, trying to change the subject suddenly, sensing the tension. Lunch continued much this way, with Susan fading into the background for the rest of the afternoon. Carrie ended up taking her back to the hotel.


	7. Chapter 7

When she got up to the room, she found Mark asleep on the king-size hotel bed. She suddenly was questioning everything again. Is medical school really what I want?, she wondered. She looked over at Mark. She was already imagining a life with him, for he had been the only man who had put up with her wanting to become a doctor. He always understood when she couldn't stay the night, understood when she couldn't go out, understood when she just needed time alone. He let her be herself and she liked it. She lay down on the bed and slid up beside him, facing him.

He was so handsome. But without that caring, charming personality, his attractiveness wouldn't have been so prevalent. He was so appealing to her because he understood, because he was caring and considerate of her needs.

Susan reached out and touched his cheek. She stroked him there a few times before his eyes opened, drowsily. He looked around, then focused on her.

"Hey," he said, his voice even raspier than usual. He went to sit up.

"No," she said, pulling him to her. "Lay with me." He looked at her, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"Did you have a good time with the girls?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess," she said. He heard the lie in her voice.

"You can tell the truth, Susan, I won't think any less of you if you do," he said.

"I did, it was nice seeing Carrie again and hanging out like we used to in high school," she said. "But we're not in high school anymore."

"I understand," he said. She sighed.

"You always do," she replied. He smiled.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No, not bad," she said.

"But?"

"It's just different," she explained. "I'm used to contradiction, to people not understanding. Sydney doesn't think I should be going to medical school at all. Our family is well off enough that neither one of us have to work, really." He looked at her, studied the way she was talking, what she was saying.

"But you want to be a doctor," he said. Not questioningly, just stating the facts.

"Yes," she nodded.

"I would ask why you don't ask for help from them, but I figure it's that independent pride in you," he said. She bit her lip.

"You can see me, can't you?" she asked. "Inside, you see right through."

He nodded. "Anyone who really wanted to could do it, darling."

"But no one has," she whispered. He leaned in and kissed her. She enjoyed it, loved the feeling of his full lips on hers. That was another thing about him, he was so good at kissing it was sinful. Kisses had never had much effect on her other than a reassurance of an established attraction. But Mark's kisses made her toes curl, made her crave more. His full lips felt so soft and sensual when they touched hers. Tingling sensations coursed up and down her arms and made her skin heat.

He pushed up her light purple t-shirt finding beneath it a simple white lace bra. She sat up and let him pull the shirt off. He then sat up and pulled her upon his lap, straddling his legs. He gently pulled her bra straps down over her shoulders, then reached around her and unhooked the bra. It came loose and he pulled it the rest of the way off of her. He didn't dive right in like most men, but sat back for a moment and just admired her, stroking his hands up and down her sides, not even touching her breasts yet. His beautiful blue eyes just looked at her.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, barely above a whisper. He looked up at her.

"Nothing," he answered. "Just looking, love." But his caresses up and down her sides were making her shiver, making her nipples tighten into hard little peaks. He leaned forward and kissed the little dip between her collar bones, his hands fondling her breasts, cupping them until his mouth found its way to her nipples. She wrapped her arms around his head. He sucked one tip hard into his hot mouth, making her back arch.

"Mark," she sighed. He moved his mouth from one to the other, licking and sucking and nipping at them until they both were bright pink, almost red. She enjoyed this greatly, more than she thought she should. The sharp, suckling pull of his mouth on the sensitive tips of her breasts made her ache deep inside between her legs, made her wet inside for him. "You're making me wet," she sighed, knowing that it drove him mad for her to talk that way. He then turned her over onto her back. He went for her belt and undid her pants carefully, trying to be patient. He pulled her jeans off, and her panties with them. She was completely naked and he just sat there for a moment, looking again. He got on his hands and knees and crawled towards her, stopping between her legs. Mark laid down there and bent her legs at the knees, then pushed them apart. He kissed the inside of one of her knees, trailing kisses slowly up the inside of her thigh.

Susan knew where he was headed and it made her nervous. They hadn't done this yet, or rather, he hadn't done this to her yet. She was always afraid that she wouldn't like it.

He finally found his way to where her thighs came together and paused. He touched her with his fingers, stroked her, gently coaxed her open.

"My my, how wet you are, darling, how pink," he said quietly.

"M-Mark," she whispered.

"What is it, Susan?" he asked, continuing to touch and stroke her tender opening.

"You're embarrassing me," she whispered. He smiled.

"But you're beautiful, Susan," he said, "I need to taste you." He was unable to hold back any longer. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the tender, open flesh. She felt his tongue lick up her center, briefly coming into contact with her clit.

She moaned something incoherent, arching her hips. He pushed one finger into her, then back out. She was so soft, so wet. It made him hard to think of feeling her, of fucking her. But he couldn't stop himself from kissing her and laving her with his hot tongue. He felt her hands come to his head, not pushing it away, but tangling in his hair, encouraging him to continue.

It was good, more than good. Susan was shocked by how good it felt for him to kiss her there, to lick and lave at her pulsing center like it was some forbidden treat. She didn't think this was supposed to feel this good. She'd heard pleasant things about oral sex before, but never that it was this hot, overwhelming, satisfying act. Most of the few female friends she had that had done it had said that it was pleasant, but that most men didn't know exactly where to touch, how hard, how soft. But it seemed to her that Mark did know, at least for her. He hit all the right places at exactly the length and intensity she needed. Realizing this frightened her even more of how close they were becoming. Susan was already aware that she liked sex. But Mark was slowly showing her just how much her body loved it and how good it could actually be for her.

"M-Mark, oooh," she moaned. He pushed one of her legs up over his shoulder, still licking and sucking on her wet, pink flesh. He pushed two fingers inside of her.

"You taste so good," he whispered, his hot breath caressing the insides of her thighs. She felt the blood rise and pulse in her cheeks, felt the heat all over her body actually. What he said would have embarrassed her, but she didn't even pick up on his statement until later when she would relive this in her mind, at which point she would feel a particularly uncomfortable level of discomfort and embarrassment. But not now. Now, all she was concerned about was his mouth returning to where it had been and continuing what he'd been doing to her, for her. And it did. He ate her, licking and laving at her like she really was as good as he said. She writhed and moaned. "What do you think, love?" he asked, pulling back again, his fingers tracing and stroking her inner flesh, making her hips rise. "Should I stop, Susan? Have you had enough?" he teased.

"No, please," she groaned, lifting her hips off of the bed. He laughed, then brought his hot mouth back against her. "Please, more," she moaned.

"Hmm?" he murmured, continuing to lap at her. She could feel his breath, his tongue searing upward over her slit until it touched that ultra-sensitive spot, making her hips roll instinctively.

"Please, I need it," she moaned. He stopped, just teasing her with his fingers now and resting his head against her thigh.

"What do you need, Susan? Just tell me, love, and you can have it," he said.

"I wanna come, Mark, please, make me come," she moaned. He rose up suddenly, needing, with everything in him, to be inside of her right then. He undid his pants and pulled her up against him. He picked her up and held her against the wall of the room. He pushed her up, then let her come down on his cock, impaling herself slowly on him.

"Mark!" she cried. He filled her entirely, as he always did. It was amazing how perfectly they fit together, and how electric it felt when they were together, joined. She pushed at his t-shirt, stripping it up and off of him. His bare chest felt good against hers.

"To come, huh?" he asked. She nodded vaguely. "You mean like this?" he asked, and the next stroke he made sent her so high up over the edge of orgasm, she saw stars for a moment in front of her eyes.

"Yes!" she cried. But he thrust upward, again, and again, she came. "Oh, Mark, I-" And again, he made her come. She looked confused and satisfied. The truth was, he was, that at nearly nine inches in length and thick enough to make her feel entirely filled with him, big enough to reach that sweet little spot deep in her that made her come instantly. After the fourth time, she began to look so glutted with the pleasure that she might pass out in his arms.

He was fucking her now, hard and rough. She hissed and groaned as he moved harshly within her repeatedly, slamming her into the wall behind her again and again. But she didn't seem to mind. She ached for more, didn't want him to stop, ever. He felt good inside of her and it amazed her how much.

Making love with Mark always made her forget who she was, made her forget her problems. Making love with him stripped her to her barest essence. She was only a woman when he was inside of her, and he was only a man, and they were satisfying a need so deeply ingrained within their human nature that it was impossible to ignore it when it was so satisfying. He'd never had such satisfaction with any other woman, and she'd never had it with any other man.

He continued to fuck her until she bit down on his shoulder, muffling her cry as she came for the fifth time, so acutely that it was almost painful. "Please, Mark, no more, I-I'll pass out," she begged, her entire body shaking as the last orgasm tore through her. Her pussy gripped him so firmly that he had no choice but to come with her this time, trying to hold back his own cries so hard that all she heard was the growl of the beast within him. It was there, in all of us, but it was rare to see it, to hear it. But she'd heard him and it didn't frighten her. It only made her glad that she was there to hear it.

He carefully released her, cautious not to let her fall or stumble. He picked her back up and lowered her onto the bed and lay down behind her, panting.

"Has it ever been that good for you? With anyone?" he asked. She shivered.

"N-No, never," she admitted. He nodded.

"Me either," he replied. She turned and saw that he was not lying. Oh no, he was telling the truth. The beast never lies.

"I didn't think I could," she paused. "You know, come so many times." He was certain that if she hadn't already been deeply flushed, that she would have blushed at saying this out loud.

"Did you like it?" he asked. She looked at him, biting her lip nervously. "It's ok if you did, Susan. I won't think any less of you." She nodded timidly. He smiled widely, pulling her close. "I thought so."


End file.
